


Afraid

by HyperionSailor



Series: Afraid of the Silence [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperionSailor/pseuds/HyperionSailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darkness. That's all Silas saw as his head hit the pillow, eyes blocked, senses dulled. The alcohol pulling at his mind, numbing it, singing its sweet song of forgetting. It was beautiful, sick, and honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid

Darkness. That's all Silas saw as his head hit the pillow, eyes blocked, senses dulled. The alcohol pulling at his mind, numbing it, singing its sweet song of forgetting. It was beautiful, sick, and honest.

He didn't know where he went wrong with his life. He was successful. He had worked in a simple coffee shop for so many years, the town opening its arms to him. Somewhere down his happy little road, it cracked. The voices returned. Things that weren't really there started showing up, haunting the corners of his eyes.

Broken, Silas thought. He was broken again. Control was slipping from his fingers, grasping at anything to try and reclaim his mind. This had happened before, long ago, when he lost control, he would always wake up with blood on his hands, and new wounds to treat.

The bed creaked as he rolled over, throwing the empty bottle of Bacardi at the door. It hit the carpet, absorbing most of the sound from the impact, making only a soft thunk. Everything was going downhill.

A shadow flitted across the room. It was the same one as before. He'd seen it so many times before, he could almost see its face. Deciding he wasn't near drunk enough, Silas stumbled out of bed, blindly making his way to the kitchen. Another shadow, but this one was bigger. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

This was getting out of hand. The booze always got rid of them. Always. He felt more than intoxicated, more than simply buzzed. Paranoia set in, his mind racing on thoughts like 'what if I'm not drunk, what if this isn't real?'.

Clinching his fists, he flung the fridge doors open, grabbing another bottle of rum.

This only did so much to block out the voices. Silas could hear them whispering in the other rooms, almost too quiet to be heard. Shambling back to bed, he flopped back down into the sheets, twisting off the bottle's cap, and chugging its contents.

The room blurred, and Silas closed his eyes, listening to the whispers at the edge of the room as he drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Schizophrenia isn't a joke, and I'd like to use my character to express it. I'll clean it up later. No beta.


End file.
